


feelings are fatal

by splorchin



Category: Batman (Comics), Batman - All Media Types, Batman and Robin (Comics), Robin (Comics), Superboy (Comics), Superman - All Media Types, Supersons
Genre: Baby Damian Wayne, Damian Wayne Feels, Damian Wayne is Bad at Feelings, Damian Wayne/Jon Kent - Freeform, Fluff and Angst, Jon Kent x Damian Wayne, M/M, Minor Jonathan Samuel Kent/Damian Wayne, Ratings: PG
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-06
Updated: 2019-12-06
Packaged: 2021-02-25 23:33:57
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,298
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21693883
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/splorchin/pseuds/splorchin
Summary: damian wayne thought he was emotionless. damian wayne thought he would never meet anyone good enough for his pristine standards. he thought he'd never fall for anyone in this stupid town.when he meets jon, his perspective, and his world, changes.
Relationships: Jon Lane Kent/Damian Wayne
Comments: 10
Kudos: 98





	1. irritated.

**Author's Note:**

> short fic on my boys finally meeting. they're about 14-15 in this fic. no NSFW as i don't write smut for minors. 
> 
> pls comment on what i should add!!

Damian was certainly not a people-person. If permanent scowl set upon his lips was any indication of this, his angry babbling certainly reminded Bruce of his son’s irritation. 

It had been three years since the man had met his son. It took until then for Bruce to come to terms with having a blood heir to the Wayne fortune. It hadn’t, however, been long enough for Damian to become accustomed with his surroundings and conventionalities of a democratic, and blatantly normal world. 

His latest outburst was about having to be integrated into that same blatantly normal world through his education. Although he was exceptional in terms of academic standing, the boy was far from all-knowing. As much as he claimed he didn’t need the schooling, Damian still struggled in certain subjects. During his integration period early into his life in Gotham, Bruce attempted to have his son tutored. In vain, of course. Every single tutor he’d had, the young Wayne scared away. Bruce paid a hefty amount for them to keep quiet about the violent nature of his child. Damian had a faulty tendency to throw daggers at those who dared tell him he needed to calm himself. Which occurred more often than not. 

The boy had not been raised in a tolerant environment. His only vessel of affection was a stray cat he’d found wandering the outskirts of the palace when he was eight. He’d smuggled the small creature into his cramped chambers and nursed it to full health unbeknownst to his mother and grandfather. Pets were forbidden in the Ras Al Ghul household, as they were a sign of attachment. Attachment of any kind was a sign of weakness, and weakness was a luxury a heir of the League of Assassins could not afford. He’d cared for the animal for six months before he found it slaughtered courtesy of his mother, along with a word of warning and a disappointed glare. 

From then on he’d been taught to channel his emotions into battle. The shattering pain that filled his chest upon discovering his companion run through? Damian transformed that into anger. Anger was the driving force behind his motives. This was widely known within the Wayne manor and between its occupants. 

Tim Drake, a surrogate brother, of sorts,-although Damian will and always has denied any sort of ties to- was attending Gotham High. The very school that Bruce normally had no trouble enrolling his previous two sons. Tim and Bruce had come to a reluctant agreement that during Damian’s time at the prestigious academy, he would watch over the boy and keep him from trouble. 

The young Wayne was not clearly impressed. 

“So you want me to become stupid, is that it? You wish me to be in the presence of stupid people until I myself lose all my intelligence?” It was an arrogant comment that left his tongue harshly, and hit Bruce smack in the face.

“No. Damian, I want you to go to school.” The man had a hand resting upon his temple, and it managed to find its way to pinch the bridge of his nose. 

His son stood in the doorway, blocking Bruce from entering. He’d hoped to sit down with the fourteen year old and have a civil conversation. He should’ve known better by then that civil was not a word in Damian’s vocabulary. 

“With stupid people.” He responded bluntly. 

“They’re not stupid. They just weren’t raised the same way as you’ve been.”

“It makes them rather uninteresting and plain.”

“You’ll meet some people that’ll interest you. We call them friends. You need some of those.” 

“I have Titus and Goliath. They are friends enough.”

“They’re animals, Damian. We’ve talked about this.” 

“Humans in this city have no tolerance for anything. They cannot eat spicy food because it upsets them. They are fragile and have next to no pain tolerance. They cannot understand more than two languages. They are incredibly dull and most of them carry disease. They are, in a literal sense, rats.” Damian’s monologue was far from over, but the conversation had been going for too long. He was already losing interest. It was too bad, he enjoyed arguing. He was most often right. 

“Just because they’re less competent than you are doesn’t make them rodents.”

“You’re wrong.” And with that, he lost all patience, and closed the door in his father’s face.

It turned out that the younger Wayne was the one mistaken.


	2. disdain.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> they meet. scene dragged a little from the original supersons comics but not quite how they met. fuck canon on the whole "damian kidnaps jon out of untrustworthiness" shit. the writers clearly don't know how to write damian lmao

Much like his father, Damian was the epitome of emotionless and stoic. Just smaller, and darker-skinned. Less intimidating, as well, but otherwise a spitting image of Bruce. 

It was only a coincidence that they’d met at the same private school. Damian wondered how someone of such low income could afford to send his son to this particular school. 

It was only lunch break when they’d met. 

He, Jon, was evidently taller than him. If him being an alien didn’t piss him off, that fact certainly did. 

It was winter. There were snowball fights breaking out in the yard between young teenagers and children. Damian was nearly fifteen. He wouldn’t entertain such infantile aspirations. He stood next to the marble stairwell when a ‘WHAP’ and a cry of pain was heard. Someone had thrown a chunk of ice. And from the looks of the reddened cheek of the victim, it had been at maximum velocity. 

A small boy of about five foot four, blue eyes, ebony hair, stood protectively over the injured one. Damian turned himself so he was facing the scene and could witness the next move. He could barely see the young alien’s face from that vantage point, but he knew something drastic was about to happen when he saw a glow of red emanating from his eyes. The youngest Wayne leapt forward, tackling his taller counterpart. 

“What are you _doing_?” He hissed into this one’s ear. “You cannot show your powers in disguise,” he said, “you’re a liability.” 

“He hurt my friend.” Jon said quietly, snow creeping into the back of his flannel jacket. He gestured at the older boy who’d tossed the ice, and Damian scowled. 

“Doesn’t matter. Justice, not vengeance.” 

“How do you know I’m..” He pointed at himself, “.. _me_ , anyway?”

“Magic.” Damian blurted sarcastically. 

He’d just risked giving away his own secret identity. Damn his father for putting him in this ridiculous establishment. Already, his intellectual abilities were being diminished by the mere presence of such dumb students. 

Many of them were kind to him, but could easily stab him in that back, literally, if he let his guard down. He longed to be at home, sketchbook in his lap, feline resting upon his feet, but that was sadly not the case. Damian pulled himself out of his imagination and back into reality. A cool feeling was seeping into his legs. The pants of his uniform were beginning to become soaked due to the snow, and he swore in his mother-tongue. He hadn’t realized he’d been laying on the other boy for that long. 

“Uh…? Can you get off me?” Jon said quietly. Damian shuffled to his feet ungracefully. The other boy’s voice was gentle, nice, as though he was almost motherly. It was an unusual tone to have to one’s voice, but it was pleasant. 

“I’m Jon,” he said, extending a hand, “Nice to meet you.” 

Damian stared at the outstretched palm being held out to him.   
“You’re supposed to shake it.” The Kryptonian continued. 

“No.” The young Wayne replied. 

“Alright then. What about a high five?” He asked, grinning, and raising his hand above his head. 

Damian nearly laughed disdainfully. “No.” He said, face expressionless. 

Jon peered at him questioningly, but gave up on this tactic. His smile faded a little, and his mouth opened; “Okay. Fair.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> pls tell me what you think!!


End file.
